‘Where did all these people come from?’ Casey asks as we walk down Oakbarrow High Street at 6 p.m. on Saturday evening.
She’s wearing a skirt that’s way too short for this time of year with slim, golden tanned legs that go on for a mile and make me feel like I’m walking about on a pair of tree trunks. Her arm is hooked through mine because heels that high and any lingering patches of ice that Bernard might not have caught when he salted the road earlier don’t mix. My jeans, trainers, thick-knit cowl-neck jumper and coat make me feel like a festive frump next to my blonde bombshell friend, who screwed her nose up in dismay when she realized she’d have to be seen in public with me wearing the reindeer antlers that Leo bought me and the Christmas tree earrings he mentioned liking.
‘Maggie put the invitation on their Facebook page,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure if people are following because of the windows or because she’s a lovable pensioner learning new technology for the first time, but she posted her first selfie with yesterday’s picture of Santa getting his nails done on the nail bar and got more likes in an hour than I’ve ever had on all my posts combined. And I post cat pictures – everyone loves cat pictures.’
‘I don’t. You could post pictures of hot naked men instead.’
I do a comedy shudder. ‘No thanks, I prefer cats.’
‘Who doesn’t like hot naked men?’ Casey sounds so incredulous that I might as well have told her I don’t like chocolate. ‘Besides, I know you like one not-very-hot man who you’d like to see naked.’
‘Leo’s hot.’
‘Eh, Leo was hot but now he’s my best friend’s boyfriend. I can no longer make any judgements on his hotness.’
‘Trust me, Leo is not my boyfriend and he never will be at the rate I’m going.’
‘What do you mean? He’s got it bad for you.’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t keep this up much longer, Case. Even his mum knows I work at One Light. It’s a matter of time until he finds out, and then what?’
‘Buy him a drink up The Bum and have a laugh about it?’ She looks at me and sighs when I don’t laugh. ‘I don’t know what it is you’re not telling me that makes this such a big deal but I assume there is something that you can’t tell me, so just strip off in front of him and offer him your body. Stop making sex more complicated than it is.’
‘That doesn’t actually work, does it?’
She shrugs. ‘Depends on the guy.’
She doesn’t sound as nonchalant as usual when she says it and I glance at her but her gaze remains stubbornly on the road ahead.
‘Not every guy would break your heart if you offered someone more than your body,’ I say quietly.
‘Been there, done that, got several of my ex-fiancé’s T-shirts that I now wear for bed. Some slightly torn after I cut them up.’ She glances at me and looks away quickly. ‘Maybe one day I’ll be like you and want love with all the hearts and flowers, but for now, I like using men the way a man used me. I like turning heads as I walk past. I like sex and lots of it – the amount I missed out on when I was engaged because my fiancé was getting his fill elsewhere. Many elsewheres.’
I hug her arm. ‘I know. I just meant –’
‘Look, there are people literally queuing up to take a picture of your Bedford Falls window. Your art has taken off in the weirdest way possible.’
I know she hates talking about anything to do with her ex so I let her get away with the subject change. ‘Got to admit I never thought my best canvas would be a coffee shop window, but it is kind of a special coffee shop.’
‘I’ve got to admit the street looks kind of special too, George.’ She laughs and gives me a nudge. ‘It reminds me of when I was little. And you might want to record that for posterity because, as Oakbarrow’s self-appointed grinch, I’ll probably never say it again, but it makes me feel all Christmassy.’
I know the street’s looking good, but it must be even better than I thought if it can make even Casey feel festive. Over the course of the week, Bernard, Leo, and I have got the tree up and secure in the old stand outside the churchyard, and decorated it under my dad’s instructions, but the lights won’t be lit until tonight. The bells hanging from streetlamps are twinkling with orange lights, and all the shops that have returned to the high street are open late so their lights illuminate the darkness. The rows of Santas and reindeer strung across the road between either side of the street above our heads are twinkling white, red and white glittering snowflakes dangle from the side of each building, and we found more giant nutcrackers that are standing like sentries at intervals along the pavement, and garlands of lights are arranged across shop fronts.
Mainly it’s been a week of ducking behind the counter or into a clothes rail whenever Leo walks by and emergency runs into the bank when he comes in to tell me something. He’s been in and out more times than the cuckoo on a cuckoo clock this week to go over plans and run-throughs of tonight with me or Bernard, and I’m a little bit exhausted from being on constant Leo-watch. What started as a tiny white lie is now too ridiculous for words, and I’m convinced that it’s only a matter of time until he catches me out.
I have to stop thinking about it.
Casey heads off in the direction of The Bum in search of mulled wine as I push open the door of It’s A Wonderful Latte, barely able to hear the bell jingling over the din of people. Every table is full, and more people are milling around on their feet, all holding coffee cups. It’s the busiest I’ve ever seen it by a country mile, even when it first opened.
Maggie’s got her arms in the cake display case, dishing up slices of peppermint brownie, orange and clove muffins, gingerbread biscuits, and mini mince pies faster than her tongs can carry them. There’s a woman I don’t recognize making drinks, and a teenage girl manning the till.
I duck past a man with a cup of coffee in each hand and edge my way around a woman stood stock still in the middle of the shop who looks like she’s been browsing the menu for at least half an hour.
‘Leo’s niece?’ I ask the girl when I finally find an inch of space near the counter.
‘Georgia?’
‘Yes,’ I say, surprised that she’d know. He must’ve told her about me. I feel all warm inside at the thought. I know he’s got a strained relationship with his sister’s side of the family and I can’t believe he’d bother to tell them anything about me. ‘Izzy, right?’
‘Yes.’ She looks pleased that I know her too, even though being behind the counter of the coffee shop kind of gives it away.
I wait for a moment as she takes money from a customer and hands him change, a receipt, and his drink in one swift move, not forgetting the warm smile, and I’m impressed by how easy she makes it look. Teenagers aren’t fazed by anything. ‘You’re a pro at that. I’d be a shaking wreck on the floor by now. I get in such a muddle when there are too many customers at once.’ Of course, too many customers are a thing of the past in Oakbarrow, but tonight, it doesn’t feel like such a distant memory after all.
‘Ah, this is easy.’ She waves a hand and smoothly passes another customer the bag of brownies that Maggie has just sent over. ‘Your pictures are incredible. I wish I could do that.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, blushing that not only has Leo told his niece about me, but that anything I’ve painted is modern enough to appeal to a teenager. I thought comedy Santas and Bedford Falls would’ve been as unfashionable as I am.
‘Mum, Georgia’s here!’ Izzy calls when there’s a brief lull in customers as the woman at the espresso machine finishes a line of purple cups and Izzy calls out names and hands them out to waiting people.
‘Mum?’ I repeat, thinking I must’ve misheard as the woman makes her way over, smiling at me. ‘You’re Leo’s sister. You’re … here.’
I try not to look as surprised as I am. After everything Leo’s said about his sister’s grief and the way she’s avoided anything that reminds her of their father, she’s the last person I expected to see in It’s A Wonderful Latte, never mind working here, but there’s no doubt about who she is. She’s got the same light brown hair, the same curls, the same chin, the same nose. ‘Becky, right?’
‘It’s so good to meet you,’ she says. ‘Leo’s told us so much about you. I think my mum’s already buying a hat.’
I gulp. Not at the wedding bit, but at the thought that Leo thinks I’m important enough to mention to his family. Surely he’s got better things to talk to his sister about?
‘I’ve been following the posts on Instagram. I decided I couldn’t let another Christmas pass without seeing Oakbarrow, especially after all the work you and my brother have put in. Even if it’s painful in some ways… I’ve been smiling more than I’ve been crying, which is progress from the last time I was here.’
‘We watched It’s a Wonderful Life,’ Izzy says. ‘I’d never seen it before but it was brilliant, even for something so ancient.’
An unexpected laugh bursts out of my mouth. ‘See, Casey?’ I say despite the fact that she’s not here. She’s always moaning about how old it is. ‘It’s a film that crosses generations.’
‘I bawled like a baby the whole way through,’ Becky says. ‘It was the first time I’d seen it since my dad died, but it was cathartic too. Maybe enough years have passed now that it was therapeutic instead of heartbreaking.’
‘It was my mum’s favourite film when she was alive too,’ I say. ‘Believe me, I understand.’
She smiles at me, revealing teeth so much like Leo’s that I automatically smile back. ‘You’ve certainly got the hang of those machines. You’re even quicker than Leo.’
‘This place is amazing. I should’ve come a lot sooner.’ Her eyes flick to Maggie and back to me. ‘It was always my plan to help Dad out in the shop when he bought it. Coming back tonight has reminded me of how much I loved it here. It’s exactly how he would’ve had it. It feels all warm and homely. He’d be proud of what Leo and Mum have done. Even the name. We never discussed it but I have absolutely no doubt that he would’ve used It’s A Wonderful Latte too. Even that blimmin’ bell above the door that’s been driving me batty every time someone comes in or out.’
‘I like it,’ Izzy says. ‘It makes me think of angels getting their wings now.’
‘Me too,’ I say. I’ve always had a soft spot for that bell. It’s never jingled as much as it has tonight with so many customers though. No sooner than the thought crosses my mind, a man barges in near the till and orders a ‘wonderful latte’, elbowing the mate with him to make sure he appreciates the display of superior wit. Becky looks at me and rolls her eyes. ‘That pun gets old very quickly.’
‘You look rushed off your feet; do you need any help? I ask as she goes to make the aforementioned latte.
‘No, I’m having a great time. Mum said things were slow so it’s fab to see it so busy again. And Leo’s down by the Christmas tree somewhere.’ She looks over her shoulder and winks at me.
Why does everyone think there’s something going on between me and Leo? Even though it’s a ridiculous notion, I can’t wait to see him so I inch my way out of the packed shop and back into the cold December air.
I hear my name as I step out of the door and look up to see Mary hurrying towards me, a glass of mulled wine in one hand, the greengrocer in the other. I look pointedly at where her arm is hooked through his, but she ignores me. ‘Have you seen this place? Doesn’t it look incredible?’
‘Just like it used to,’ I say, bending down for a quick hug. ‘You two look like you’re having fun.’
‘Patrick’s just making sure I stay on my feet,’ Mary says, despite the fact she watched Bernard up and down with the road salt this afternoon and is wearing sensible flats so doesn’t even have the excuse Casey has got with her stilettos.
‘How’s trade going now you’re back?’ I ask Patrick.
‘Brilliant,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe it took me until now to try it again. I plan on seeing how January goes and then expanding my stock in February. Without that mini-supermarket stealing my customers, things are selling even faster than they used to.’
‘Fantastic.’
‘Not as fantastic as you folks have made this street look. It was like this in its heyday, although I never remember it being this busy. And that picture –’ he nods towards the coffee shop’s window, ‘I’ve never seen It’s a Wonderful Life, and even I recognize it.’
‘I’ll fix his movie choices before the weekend is out,’ Mary says, well-versed in my usual response to anyone who’s never seen It’s a Wonderful Life.
‘You’ve got the DVD, maybe you could get together and watch it,’ I say, grinning at the thought. ‘It is Christmas after all, it’ll be a bit late if you don’t get on it soon.’
‘George!’ Mary says, blushing.
Patrick doesn’t look like he objects to the idea.
‘Oh, I meant to tell you,’ Mary says as I go to walk away. ‘Head Office phoned earlier wanting to know why we’d had such a sudden spike in sales. I told them there’d been a bit of a street makeover, but you will be careful they don’t find out you’re involved, won’t you?’ She nods at the coffee shop. ‘He’s got more customers than we have. If Head Office discover that you’ve put all this effort into helping him, they’re not going to be happy. They’re going to be wondering why you didn’t paint Bedford Falls on our window and offer a raffle prize at One Light.’
‘I don’t think it matters too much. Bringing people back to the street is what’s important. If they come to one place, we all benefit.’
‘But he’s got young Instagrammy people taking those selfie thingys with the window. Not the sort of people who shop in charity shops. Head Office won’t see that it benefits us – they’ll see it as their manager helping a competitor.’
‘We’ve seen an increase in customers. Our shelves are looking emptier and our donations have gone up. Our take-offs have been much less than they were because people have bought things. Charity shops suffer at this time of year anyway because people are buying presents and want new things, not second-hand. We have no possible competition with Leo, he sells coffee, we’re a charity shop. Don’t worry so much,’ I say, worrying. ‘Enjoy the night. It’s not long until the light switch on now.’
I watch as Mary and Patrick wander up the street arm in arm, knowing she’s got a point, and wondering how much Leo would laugh at the irony of me telling someone not to worry.
* * *
If possible, it’s even busier down by the Christmas tree. Bernard is there in full Santa costume, sitting in the sleigh we rescued from Hawthorne’s basement, while children sit next to him and tell him their Christmas wishes. I stand back and watch for a moment, trying to work out who looks happier – Bernard or the children who are going up to meet him. Bernard was so touched when we asked him to play Santa that he actually got emotional, something I’ve never seen Bernard do before, no matter how hard times have been for him.
My dad is still supervising the last of the Christmas lights, standing and directing one of Bernard’s friends on where to put the finishing touches. He seems younger than he has for years, buoyed up doing something he loves again.
It’s cold and crisp tonight, and the Salvation Army band that Bernard organized are tuning up with a brass version of ‘Wonderful Christmastime’.
‘Paul McCartney, good choice,’ I say, sidling over to where Leo’s standing in the little clearing in front of the tree.
He seems to be supervising in general, directing kids into a line to meet Santa-Bernard, answering questions, directing people towards the coffee shop or The Bum, even giving one woman the time despite the fact there’s a clock on the church tower above our heads.
He tips a reindeer antler towards me and his grin doesn’t fade. ‘I had some solid advice on the merits of Macca at the weekend.’
I look over at my dad again, currently waxing lyrical about the tautness needed to get the perfect drape of tinsel, and Leo follows my gaze. ‘I’m keeping an eye on him.’
‘I know,’ I say, realizing I do know. I trust Leo. He knows I worry and I know without even asking that Leo’s watching him out of the corner of his eye. ‘Thanks.’
He smiles.
‘Nice jumper. I was expecting your Christmas tie but this is a real step up.’
‘I thought you’d like it. I was getting dressed earlier and as I pulled this over my head, my first thought was that you’d think I’m the epitome of cool sophistication. I’m one step away from the London catwalks, right?’ He strikes a pose and throws me his best blue steel smoulder.
The jumper is the deepest maroon colour with a white Fair Isle pattern and a bright green Christmas tree on the front, starting from the trunk at the waistband and covering the whole front until the star at the top which fits nicely in the dip of his collarbone, complete with 3D baubles and actual fairy lights that flash. Although, thoughts of Leo getting dressed lead to thoughts of Leo undressed, and my face heats up as I imagine that awful jumper sliding over smooth naked skin …
‘Oh, definitely.’ I couldn’t stop myself giggling even if I wanted to because I love that he’s not afraid to really get behind Christmas. I love this time of year and all the sparkly, tacky goodness that goes with it, but no one should be able to look that good wearing a Christmas jumper. It’s quite unfair, actually. Most people wearing that would look like they’d just failed an elf audition. How can he still be sexy?
‘Well, it’s only once a year. If you can’t fully embrace looking like a prat at Christmas, when can you? Nice earrings and antlers.’ He beams at me and then looks worried. ‘And I’ve just realized the juxtaposition of those sentences made that sound like an insult. Sorry. I meant that I look like a prat, not you. You look gorgeous.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, loving how nervous and rambly he gets sometimes. ‘I’m utterly sure I do look like a prat, but at least we can be prats together. You’re making me wish I’d worn a Christmas jumper now but Casey would’ve disowned me.’
He smiles as he helps another child out of the sleigh, hands them a candy cane and thanks them for coming.
‘You’re good at this.’ I watch Leo direct the next child in the queue to sit next to Bernard in the sleigh but she’s too busy already babbling at him to hear.
He shrugs. ‘I grew up around Santa’s grotto. I often donned an elf hat and stood in for the store elves when they ran out to do their Christmas shopping. Until I realized how desperately uncool it was and all my friends made fun of me.’
‘And then you carried on anyway because you love Christmas?’
‘Pretty much.’ He leans closer and whispers, antlers jingling. ‘It might surprise you but I have no problem looking like an idiot in public.’
‘You don’t look like an idiot,’ I say, fighting the urge to kiss his cheek. His skin is so near, his face reddened from the cold, and he smells completely delicious. He’s got a different aftershave on and he smells of dark pine, burning wood, and clove. I force myself to take a step back and put on a jovial tone. ‘Just a bit of a wally.’
He laughs. ‘I am fully accepting of that fact.’
‘If your mum has a picture from when you were younger, I’m going to make her dig it out.’
‘I’m going to make sure Santa leaves coal in your stocking if you do. And my mum has many pictures of me looking desperately uncool at Christmastime. I’m surprised she hasn’t had them made into cards and distributed them to the whole town by now.’
‘Speaking of family, I’ve just met your sister …’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I didn’t expect to see her. Apparently Izzy really wanted to see Oakbarrow like this and between her and my mum’s … let’s call it gentle persuasion as opposed to persistent battering … Becky decided to come. She said she’s been having grief counselling and that’s been helping her to enjoy the happy memories rather than try to avoid them. It’s good, I think.’
‘She seemed to be loving it in the shop.’
‘She always did love it there.’ he nods. ‘Hopefully this’ll be a turning point for her. I’ve got enough customers that Izzy can come back to her Saturday job, especially with the craft market reopening, so I’m hoping Becky will start dropping her off and picking her up, and maybe start to see that It’s A Wonderful Latte is a way of honouring our father rather than a painful reminder of what we’ve lost.’
‘Spoken with expertise by a man who’s spent the past two years brushing his own grief under the carpet and pretending to be fine when he’s not?’
I realize that was maybe a bit too harsh when he winces. ‘I’m okay, George. You’ve made me face the things I hadn’t dealt with. There’s no getting over it, there’s only accepting life as it is now and learning to carry on because there’s no other option. I’m not going to end up where I did before.’
What does that mean? As me, I’m not supposed to know where he ended up before. Is he trying to tell me something?
I don’t have a chance to push it because the church bell rings seven times to mark seven o’clock. The crowd gathered around the tree has gradually grown and people are filling the road, more people than I ever thought I’d see on Oakbarrow High Street again, even more than I remember from the busiest times in days gone by. Everyone has It’s A Wonderful Latte cups or beakers of mulled wine from The Bum in their hands, there are Christmas jumpers as far as the eye can see, and the decorations lighting the street are amplified by hundreds of flashing Christmas earrings, headbands, ties, and otherwise. It’s amazing to see people getting into the Christmas spirit.
Leo and I have got a spot at the front and I’m hyperaware of him next to me, slightly behind and to the side, his shoulder and arm pressed against my back. Casey’s somewhere in the crowd with a newly-single guy she had a crush on in school. Maggie, Becky, and Izzy are outside It’s A Wonderful Latte, which has closed its doors for the big switch-on. Mary and Patrick are on the sidelines near the tree too, and my dad has finally sat down in a chair Leo got for him.
Bernard stands up in the sleigh after the church bell has finished chiming, the switch my dad has wired up to the tree lights in his hand. ‘Thank you all for coming,’ he starts, addressing the crowd. ‘I can’t tell you how much joy it brings me to see Oakbarrow High Street so busy after all these years. I want to dedicate this tree, this street, and the community spirit that’s abundant tonight to a man who is no longer with us. A man who I’m sure we all remember in our own special way, whether as the Santa we used to visit at Hawthorne’s toy shop when we were little, or the man who was an almost permanent fixture in the corner of the café up the road there.’
Leo sucks in a breath beside me and I reach back until I find his hand and slot my fingers through his.
‘To Derek Summers.’
The crowd echoes Bernard’s words, clinking cups with the people standing next to them, and I squeeze Leo’s hand tighter.
I think Bernard is done but he carries on. ‘Derek may no longer be with us, but his son is continuing his legacy. Derek’s son is partially responsible for everything you see around you tonight, along with help from a little guardian angel I like to call Clarence. It is their dedication, their love of Oakbarrow, their creativity, and their belief in Christmas magic that has made this quiet little street come back to life in the past few weeks.’
His eyes are on me and Leo now, ignoring the rest of the crowd, like he’s speaking only to us. ‘Derek’s son doesn’t know that I was one of his father’s best friends, that Derek and I actually built this very sleigh by hand in my garage when you were too young to remember.’ He bends down and pats the smooth side of the red wooden prop.
When I look up at Leo, he’s focused completely on Bernard, but there are silent tears sliding down his face. I reach up and brush them away, and let my hand linger, tucking his hair back and sliding down to wrap around his arm and hold him against me.
‘And I can speak here with his voice. Your father would be exceptionally proud of you, Leo. You, your family, and the shop he loved so much are a credit to him and this town. Don’t ever forget that, even when times are hard. If a man has friends, he truly has a wonderful life.’
Even Bernard is getting choked up and he stops to compose himself.
I had no idea Bernard knew Leo’s father, and by the complete surprise clear on Leo’s face, he didn’t either.
Bernard clears his throat and picks up a coffee cup, raising it in a toast.
‘To Leo and Clarence, who would’ve made an old Santa very proud on this wonderful night.’
I blush as every pair of eyes in the crowd swivels to us and Leo edges minutely closer, clutching my hand almost hard enough to hurt.
Thankfully, Bernard chooses that moment to start the countdown and the tree bursts into light, drawing the attention away from us.
The lights ping into life row by row from bottom to top, lines of twinkling fairy lights spiralling around the tree until the star on top lights with a burst of orange.
It’s a much smaller tree than the ones Oakbarrow used to have and some of the sets of lights we found had given up the ghost after so much time, but it looks stunning. The tree might not be a giant but it’s over nine foot and it’s the best tree anyone’s seen in Oakbarrow for many years. A hush falls across the crowd as everyone just stands there admiring it.
I can feel Leo breathing, each breath slow and considered, a short inhale and long exhale, like he’s focusing intently on it. There are tremors running through him, where his body is pressed against mine, and my fingers tighten automatically around his hands.
He puts an arm around my chest and leans against me, his chin on my shoulder, his head resting against mine, and although I’m desperate to turn around and pull him into a hug, I get the feeling he just needs to be still and quiet for a few moments.
The Salvation Army band strikes up again with ‘Fairytale of New York’, and Leo’s arms slide down to my waist and tighten around me, pulling me closer against him.
People start to stir, chatting to their neighbours again, wandering away from the clearing around the tree, the kids who were queuing to see Santa swarm back towards the line they were in, but Leo doesn’t move.
‘Thank you,’ he murmurs in my ear, his voice rough and muffled.
‘That was all Bernard. I didn’t know what he was going to say.’
‘I don’t mean for that. I mean for everything. You brought me back to life, George.’
My hands are still covering his where they’re around me and I flex them, letting my fingers rub across the back of his hands.
‘I don’t want this to end,’ he says, even quieter than before. ‘You, me, this. Christmas. I don’t want you to go back to being just a customer. I don’t want you to go back to being just a friend. For the first time, I like living here. I’m excited about what the new year is going to bring for Oakbarrow and I want to share that with you.’
His hands are clasped together on my stomach and I have to prise them apart with my fingers before I can turn around, almost like he doesn’t want me to move in case it breaks the spell.
Everything feels a bit more twinkly and magical tonight than it does usually, like anything could happen, and when I do manage to pull back and turn around in his arms, his face is pure nervousness, like he’s said something so wrong that he’s honestly expecting me to slap him, and my whole insides melt at how he could possibly be that nervous. Doesn’t he realize that I’m head-over-flipping-heels in love with him?
I go to speak but my voice comes out cracked and I have to wet my lips and try again. ‘I’d like that,’ I say, barely above a whisper.
His face slowly spreads into the widest smile I’ve ever seen, and I am powerless not to smile in return.
He looks happy, and a few weeks ago, I never thought I’d see him happy again. No matter what happens now, if he’s happy, it’s all been worth it.
His eyes are dark with desire, centred on my lips, and I know he’s going to kiss me. My eyes close and my fingers automatically find their way into his hair and I nearly do a squeal of joy at finally getting to wind my fingers in his mass of curls because I’ve wanted to do it since the first time I saw him.
But squeals of joy in the middle of kissing would be undignified. Instead our tinsel reindeer antlers clash in midair and my flashing Christmas tree earrings get caught on his flashing Christmas tree jumper.
So not undignified at all, obviously.
I melt as Leo’s lips touch mine. It’s only a peck at first, soft and sweet, and everything Leo is wrapped up into one simple touch. He breathes a sigh of contentment against my mouth and it sets something in me on fire. My fingers tighten in his hair and pull him closer, and the kiss turns more intense for a few moments, his fingers clutching my jacket, my hair, anything, like he can’t pull me close enough, and I can’t breathe because I’ve imagined kissing Leo more times than is probably normal but the reality is so much better than my imagination.
His sigh of contentment turns into a moan of need and we both suddenly realize where we are.
In public, with plenty of people still nearby, Bernard’s eyes flicking towards us every time there’s a break between children in the sleigh, the vague sound of Casey’s cheering, and my dad looking deliberately in the other direction.
I meet Leo’s eyes and we both start giggling.
‘Hold that thought,’ he whispers, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him again.
His smile is so full of joy and he sounds so happy that it spreads through me too. We did this. We brought Oakbarrow back from the brink, just the two of us, and if we can do that, we can overcome anything.
I forget about the people around us, the band playing, the chill in the air, and a sense of contentment settles over me – everything will be all right. He will understand.
I reach up to straighten his tinsel antlers and take a deep breath. ‘Leo, there’s something I need to tell –’
‘Excuse me,’ someone says before I have a chance to finish the sentence.
A policeman pushes past us and approaches Bernard. ‘Are you in charge here?’
‘Depends on who’s asking,’ Bernard says, his eyes flicking towards us.
The policeman holds up a badge and shows it to Bernard. ‘I would’ve thought that fairly obvious.’
‘Hmm.’ Bernard takes much longer to examine the badge than necessary. ‘I am and I’m not. What seems to be the problem?’
‘I would’ve thought that fairly obvious too.’ The policeman gestures to the huge sparkling tree behind him. ‘I’ve been sent as an enforcement officer by Gloucestershire county council as they’ve noticed you’re holding an unlicensed public gathering tonight. They also seem to be missing a record of your planning permission for these decorations, and your health and safety certificates appear to have gone amiss too. Are you the man responsible? If not, could you point me in the correct direction, please?’
‘I am,’ Bernard says, folding his arms across his red Santa coat and puffing his chest out.
The police officer really doesn’t look impressed. This cannot end well.
‘He’s not,’ Leo says instantly, pulling away from my side and striding towards them. ‘I am. This is nothing to do with him, it’s solely my responsibility.’
‘No, it’s not,’ I say before I’ve even thought it through. ‘You’re the one who tried to talk me out of it. This was my idea. I’m responsible.’
‘She’s not,’ Leo says.
‘Neither of them are,’ Bernard says. ‘I’m the oldest, I’m the one in charge.’
The police officer looks between us. ‘I’m going to have to fine all three of you then. You’ve hooked into the council’s electricity supply without permission, we have no health and safety certificates for this display, and you’re holding this public gathering without public liability insurance … Unless you can show me your documentation for all of those things right this second, I have no choice but to issue you with a fixed penalty notice, and instruct you to begin the process of removal immediately.’
A gasp of misery echoes through the crowd and I feel the same hollowness knocking around inside me. All this effort, all these people who have come out tonight to see Oakbarrow like it used to be, and it’s all over already. Of course the council have found out – we were naive to think they wouldn’t.
‘If these decorations are not removed within twenty-four hours, court proceedings will follow.’ He points a pen towards Bernard. ‘I’m going to need your names and addresses. We’ll start with you.’
Bernard manages to look pleased about this. ‘My address is that bench in the churchyard, and my name is Santa Claus, of course. Ask any of these people if you don’t believe me.’
‘Hilarious, my friend. If only I had a pound for every time I hear that in December.’ He turns to me and Leo. ‘And I suppose you two are the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy?’
‘No, that’s my head elf and my wingless angel, Clarence,’ Bernard says.
The police officer looks like he’s running out of patience faster than a cheetah on rollerblades. When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth. ‘I’m sure you think you’re all stand-up comedians, but this is a serious matter. If you refuse to give me your names and addresses, or if I suspect you’re giving me false information, I will call for back-up and you will be taken into custody and charged with wasting police time, as well as everything else you’re getting up to here.’
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a spike of panic. Fixed penalty fines, being arrested and charged, enforcement officers … I’ve never been on the wrong side of the law before and my knees feel unstable and my hands have started shaking. So much for that sense of contentment, eh?
‘You can’t issue a fine to Santa Claus,’ a woman in the crowd says.
The policeman falters for a second as his eyes shift towards the young girl standing with her, obviously reconsidering destroying the Christmas magic of her childhood. ‘I’m not issuing a fine to Santa Claus, I’m issuing a fine to this gentleman and his friends.’
‘Mr Scrooge, is that you?’ a man shouts from a few people back. ‘You’re looking remarkably well for someone first written about in 1843!’
The policeman half-stifles a laugh and actually looks ashamed for a moment. ‘Look, I’m just doing my job. These people are in breach of multiple rules and regulations. They don’t have planning consent or insurance, they don’t have the specific approval required to attach to street furniture and lighting columns, they’re interfering with the streetlights, and they’re causing a public nuisance.’
‘You’re causing a public nuisance!’ someone shouts.
‘Interfering with the streetlights,’ another man scoffs. ‘There have been dodos seen more recently than a fresh bulb in any of those lamps!’
‘What if it wasn’t just them who did it?’ someone else in the crowd calls out.
‘Yes!’ My dad suddenly jumps up and hobbles across to us. ‘It was me too!’
‘And me!’ Mary steps forward.
‘Me too.’ Patrick doesn’t have much choice as she practically drags him with her.
‘Same!’ Casey shouts.
‘Us too,’ an elderly woman’s voice calls from outside It’s A Wonderful Latte, and I turn around to see Maggie waving her hand like she’s trying to attract attention, Becky and Izzy at her side.
They’re echoed by a chorus of people claiming responsibility for what we did. Shopkeepers I recognize, people I’ve never seen before, customers I know from One Light. One by one, people say it was them even though it wasn’t. There are so many people stepping up that eventually the policeman has to interrupt them.
‘Someone has organized this. One or two people.’ He glances at me, Leo, and Bernard again. ‘Or a few. But not every one of the few hundred people here have put up decorations that you do not have permission to display.’
‘You don’t know that. You weren’t here when we put them up,’ someone else challenges him.
‘If it was every single one of us, you can’t fine us all,’ says a man I recognize from the florist’s shop. ‘If the council have a problem with this, maybe they should have done it themselves. Gloucestershire council have turned their backs on us so the residents have decided to do something about it themselves. It’s not a crime to want your town to look festive.’
‘The council’s budget is limited.’
‘So is ours. So is everyone’s. You want to fine us, go ahead. Fine Oakbarrow High Street as a whole. We’ll all chip in to pay it. I will, I know many of the shopkeepers who have come back here in the past few weeks would think that it’s worth a little contribution to see their high street looking like this again. Do your worst, matey. It’s Christmas and this is the most festive I’ve felt in years because these people have done what should have been done years ago.’
The crowd murmur agreements like the rumbling of an approaching thunderstorm.
‘All of us have had a hand in our high street declining.’ This time the newsagent joins in. ‘We are the people who stopped shopping here because the shops we liked could no longer afford to stay in business, we are the ones who have chosen to go elsewhere because it’s more convenient, and now we are the ones who have a chance to turn back the clock. It’s worth more than money.’
‘Impose whatever fine you want,’ Patrick says. ‘It will be paid – by all of us, for all of us. And I sincerely hope that next year, everyone will get together and do exactly the same again, fine or no fine.’
The police officer looks like he’s wavering and I actually feel a bit sorry for him. I doubt he expected to find a couple of hundred people knee deep in festive spirit on Oakbarrow High Street tonight.
My dad takes pity on him. ‘Did you grow up here?’
‘Well, yes, nearby,’ he says, his voice sounding stuttery and nervous.
‘Don’t you remember it looking like this?’
‘I remember coming to Hawthorne’s. My father bought me a toy police car that you rode around in. It was my favourite for years. When I got too big to fit in it, I put my teddies in and gave them rides instead.’ He smiles, his eyes wandering up the street to where you can see the upper parts of the redbrick building towering above its neighbours. ‘That was the moment I decided I wanted to join the police force. I loved that shop.’
‘Do you remember how the street used to look? The snow in Hawthorne’s doorway?’ Leo gestures towards the sleigh Bernard is still standing in. ‘Santa’s grotto? The carol services at the tree by the church?’
‘Everything’s been installed by an electrician,’ Bernard says. ‘Everything’s safe, and people are enjoying it. Oakbarrow High Street is different – better – because of this. Where’s your Christmas spirit?’
‘Well, I …’ the officer stutters, not looking half as steadfast as he did when he arrived.
‘Look at how many people we’ve made happy. When was the last time you saw this amount of joy in our little town? It’ll be Christmas Eve in two days. The elves and I will have everything down by Boxing Day. Can’t you just tell your bosses that you couldn’t find who was responsible?’ Bernard taps his nose. ‘I’ll make sure you’re on the nice list …’
The police officer smiles. ‘I suppose I can’t really say no to Santa, can I?’
The crowd cheers, the Salvation Army strikes up with ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’, and the policeman goes to The Bum for a well-deserved mulled wine.
Leo drops his arm around my shoulder and breathes an exaggerated sigh of relief.
‘Times like this remind me of why I love Oakbarrow so much. Even strangers will step in to help when you need it. If a man has friends, he truly has a wonderful life,’ Bernard says, repeating the toast he made earlier that seems even more significant now.
* * *
It’s eleven o’clock before the last of the stragglers have left and all the shops have shut. Maggie, Becky, and Izzy have taken my dad home, Casey’s taken her new old-crush’s phone number as opposed to his condom size, Mary and Patrick have made plans to spend the day together tomorrow and gone their separate ways for tonight, and Leo and I are still picking up empty coffee cups from the pavement.
‘Well, that was a wonderful night.’ Bernard flops down onto the bench in the sleigh and picks up the cup of tea that Leo’s brought him.
‘Thanks for all you’ve done,’ I say, standing upright and putting my hands on my lower back which is definitely telling me I’ve been on my feet for too long.
‘This was all you two,’ Bernard says. ‘Everyone else in Oakbarrow had given up on ever making this town better, apart from you two. And you did it. You brought the community together again. You reminded us all of Christmases past. That won’t just disappear now. People will hold onto it for the rest of the year too.’
‘I think we might not have been alone.’ Leo stands upright too and grunts at the movement. He points upwards. ‘If my dad was here, and Georgia’s mum, they’d have loved it.’
‘They’d have been very proud,’ Bernard says. ‘Why don’t you two take the weight off for a minute?’ He pats the red sleigh bench, and the temptation of sitting down is just too much.
I squeeze in on one side of Bernard and Leo squeezes in on the other. He groans and pushes his back against the wooden bench to straighten it. ‘Next year, we hire litter pickers.’
‘Next year, hopefully the council will listen to demand and do it themselves,’ I say.
‘There’s a very good chance that they will. Look at what happened tonight. We all showed them how much love we still have for this town. I’m proud of you two, you know that?’ He drops an arm around both of our shoulders. ‘And for once I’m not afraid to put my arms around you because my lovely Clarence here let me use that fancy shower gel.’
We all sit there in silence for a while, looking at the now empty street, completely still, apart from the twinkling of Christmas lights.
‘Come on then,’ Bernard says. ‘Tell an old Santa standing in for another old Santa who’d have boiled over with delight at the sight of a certain kiss earlier … what’s your Christmas wish?’
I look at Leo over the top of Bernard’s Santa hat. You.
‘I think I’ve already got mine,’ Leo says, not taking his eyes off me.
I smile at him, feeling so happy I might burst. I can’t remember the last time things felt this right. For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by staying in Oakbarrow. Sometimes the best things are the things that have been in front of you all along.
‘Actually, there is one thing, Bernard. Tell me something.’ Leo nods towards me. ‘Why do you call her Clarence? Because she’s some kind of angel?’
I mime sticking my fingers down my throat and Leo laughs.
Bernard looks at me and my smile stops in its tracks as I feel the blood drain from my face. I suddenly know exactly what he’s going to say.
‘Because Clarence stops people jumping off bridges.’